A Sleepless Winter

 📅 Winter 2017; after the events of The Waterfront & We’ve Built Bridges Just For Burning

〚ᴛᴡ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀʙᴜsᴇ, sᴇʟғ ʜᴀʀᴍ, ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴅɪsᴏʀᴅᴇʀs, sᴜʙsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴀʙᴜsᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ sᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ〛

Athena needed to get out. She knew she did, even if the guilt over feeling it was enough to drown her. But the truth was that she was running on empty; on less than empty. November had come in as a bombing fleet of a month and Athena felt leveled. She was meant to be ‘the functional one,’ but it had gotten so, so hard. 
She wasn’t sleeping anymore. Seth had been silently downward-spiraling for a while; had broken a couple mirrors before and needed her or Aetos to go up and be with him, and she’d started to fret that he might be cutting again...but she’d heard nothing from the apartment overhead a week and a half ago, the night prior to the morning he’d come downstairs with his neck wrapped in gauze, and he couldn’t give her straight answers about anything. 
Why had he done it? Why hadn’t he reached out? Why wasn’t he committing himself to a unit? 
He didn’t know; he’d been drunk, when he came to his senses he’d regretted it: He wouldn’t do it again.

She couldn’t bear it, couldn’t trust him, and couldn’t rest in the apartment below his; not anymore, not if she might miss something by succumbing to sleep. 
But in truth she didn’t want to be there to miss the signs anyway, and didn’t want to be there to hear them, either. She tried desperately to avoid being at home and threw herself into twice as many workouts and frequent late nights clubbing. Anxiety shrunk her stomach; she wasn’t managing to eat back the difference and wherever she went, she felt haunted by her own high school ghost. No matter where she was, she’d often end up barricading herself in a bathroom and crying from the stress.

It wasn’t just Seth causing it, either: In October’s aftermath, Kato was careening towards God-knows-what-end; more volatile than ever, frequently coked-out, and prone to the pendulum swings between love and hate that she’d come to expect from him. He’d been on the hate side that evening and screaming at her for either loving him or not loving him, she couldn’t quite tell which, and she’d gotten sucked into yelling back even though she knew she should just hunker down and let him come around:

“I never fucking asked to be saved, Athena!” Kato ended up yelling, after she foolishly threw down 2011 as an example of her love for him; “You and Seth just decided you had something to prove, no one would have known if you’d just kept your mouth shut, you could have just let me—”
“KILL PEOPLE?” Athena interrupted, “We could have just let you KILL PEOPLE?”
“I’d be dead too and they would have fucking deserved it anyway!”
“God, that’s sick, K, you KNOW that’s sick—”
“YEAH,” Kato spat venomously, “I’m fucking SICK! And now I have to stay sick for the rest of my goddamn life because you two couldn’t just let me off myself! Then or in October; nobody will let me fucking die! You know what you do with a rabid dog, Athena? You fucking shoot it, you don’t force it to suffer! And now everyone else has to deal with me too! I hope you feel fucking great about that!”

He’d slammed his bedroom door behind him and she’d stormed out of the apartment, holding onto her anger as long as she could because it was the only thing keeping the lid on her grief and fear. What she wanted to do was call Astra, or Gabe; she was dying to be able to crash on Astra’s couch and have her feelings validated, to rant to Gabe on FaceTime and have him offer to text K-O and try and talk some sense into him. But they weren’t there, not anymore: All of late October’s shit had rent Athena’s social circle apart. 

Things had gotten rocky even before the final straw; Astra had been asking sideways sort of questions about Seth which had rankled Athena and threatened to offset some of their closeness, and Athena had started to get left with a sour taste in her mouth after some of Bryluen’s comments, too. One evening in early October Athena had been fretting over Seth and recounting the pressures of childhood with Astra as the night at the club wound down, and Bryluen had joined the conversation as a sympathetic ear, then accompanied Athena outside while she waited for her ride:

“It’s just awful your parents behaved how they did,” Bryluen said, frowning, her eyebrows knitted together with such concern it could almost have seemed theatrical. “I mean, if he’s a genius then no-one could compare—especially not if you have, what was it again? ‘Dyscalculia?’” Bryluen shook her head. “Really, what could they have been expecting? How unfair.”
“Yeah, I mean, it sucked,” Athena replied, shrugging; “I wanted my parents to love me. But I never really beat myself up for not being as smart as him… It’s kind of his whole shit, yanno? Like you said—no comparison.”
“Of course, and anyway—out on stage is where you shine; that’s clearly where you’re meant to be, not stifled by academia,” Bryluen simpered. “...Though your brother still often takes a rather literal spotlight there in concert, too, doesn’t he? Does that ever bother you?”
Athena furrowed her brow and glanced sideways at Bryluen. The concern in her voice had some strange undertone, something a little leading; as if there were an intended answer and it was the one that put Athena—in some way—in competition with her brother. Athena was uncomfortably reminded of her mom.
“No..?” she said, trying not to make assumptions about her friend’s intentions, but attempting to sound firm in her reply: “I’m the drummer, and anyway, he deserves it—”
“Of course he does!” Bryluen interrupted, blinking innocently. “He’s really worked so hard, it’s so clear, and he suffers so much because of it! It must be so upsetting for you that he shuts you out and won’t accept any help from you at all. You clearly love and trust him so much.”

The implications of Bryluen’s emphasis had rattled Athena, but her ride had gotten there before she could react. In the aftermath she’d tried to talk to Astra and Gabe about it, but both had insisted she’d misunderstood their friend and that Bryluen would never be so unkind as to cast aspersions on the depth of Seth’s love.
So...Athena had tried to let it roll off her back, and had second-guessed her own interpretations right along with them. Until that afternoon on the last Sunday of October, when Bryluen had let her true colors fly in Kato’s face and he’d nearly put a bullet through his head. But Astra hadn’t said anything then, either: She’d left with Bryluen and had gotten distant and unresponsive. Just like Gabe. Just like all of Nightshrike. Sure, some of them had sent a handful of stilted, cold-toned texts—but in light of the fucking fiasco that had just happened, it was nothing. A couple weeks afterward Kato had gone and yelled himself hoarse at Bry, and then that piecemeal withdrawal got replaced by what essentially amounted to stony silence.
Athena felt angry. Hurt. Fucking betrayed. But right now she desperately wanted her friends, wanted support, and it felt excruciatingly unfair that they were gone because she was on Kato’s side and even he had screamed her out of the house. She felt the lump in her throat but scheduled a sobbing session for later, hailed a cab, and headed out. She couldn’t go to Eocene, of course, and she didn’t feel like partying, anyway—cocktails kept tasting like Seth’s alcoholism; Kato’s outbursts made her want to break shit, not breakdance. She headed for the last, frail sense of familiarity in Brooklyn: The gym. Her gym. 

Wendy didn’t go there anymore; had been avoiding the place since their relationship faded out, and so Athena sank into some semblance of turf, or home. She ramped up her routine and tried to sweat out her tears instead of crying them; tried to overshadow the anger and ache of her heart with adrenaline and sore muscles. 
She felt weaker instead of stronger by the end, though, her stomach tight with hunger but her appetite as absent as her old friends. Despite dusk inching toward darkness outside, Athena sat on a damp changing room bench after her shower and mulled over her loneliness instead of leaving.
I wish ‘Key was here, she thought; there with her the way he had been when they first started going to the gym together. They were always playfully pushing one another harder, for better, just like they all did with the band. Back then, those were the days—! When it seemed like they all propped each other up and pulled together. How had that turned into pushing one another away and dragging each other down? 
Her reverie was broken by the pool-room door opening, saturating the air with the humid smell of chlorine.

“Oh, hey, Athena! You don’t usually work today,” Teagan greeted. Half-acquaintance, half-coworker, Tea was usually in the pool teaching water aerobics or something similar while Athena worked the weight room. They only crossed paths every so often on their ways out the door; gym bags on their shoulders, Teagan’s hair intermittently wet, if her swim cap had been foregone—but they had the unspoken camaraderie of both being young Black women navigating positions of quasi-authority, and how people reacted to them for such. Teagan was pleasant when they occasionally waited on the bus together; when Kato went missing last month and Athena had been asking everyone she knew to keep an eye out, Teagan had offered whatever assistance she could. She smiled at Athena now as she shook her long dreadlocks out of her swimcap.

“I still don’t work today,” Athena said, trying to return the smile. “Just here by myself. Or, er—for myself.” Her face fell despite her efforts and she felt heat in her ears and cheeks as something shameful and broken-feeling washed over her. Her shit-strewn life felt on her, somehow, like crud on her shoes—too much, too messy, too…too everything, and not meant to be tracked into work or out into public. “I oughta get going though. Sorry if I used up all the hot water for my shower.”
“Not my problem if you did, I’m finna dip. Just gonna shower at home. Wanna hold up a sec and we can walk to the bus stop together?” Teagan offered. “I’m just grabbing my bag from my locker.”
“Oh, sure, yeah. Thanks.” Athena bit her lip and hiked her own gym bag higher on her shoulder. She’d be lying to herself to think she didn’t appreciate the kindness and company, but there was a flighty, restless swoop in her stomach, too, and the crushing weight of going home to Sethfire’s spiraling and her absent friends; to Kato’s unpredictability and the fact that she’d stormed off and left him alone at home, with Anarchy gone for work.

It wasn't the time or place for fear, and it wasn’t how Athena wanted to be around her admittedly pretty coworker, but anxiety welled up in her anyway as she and Teagan headed out onto the cold street. She compulsively tapped out an are-you-okay text to Kato as her eyes went watery. What if he didn’t respond? What if she got home tonight to find a body? What if it wasn’t tonight, but the next, or a week from now, or what if it wasn’t Kato, even, what if her brother was the first to go? 

Teagan said something that didn’t register, and Athena responded with something that didn’t register either, privately preoccupied with the stress that at any point her phone could ring with a call that someone she loved was dead or dying or missing all over again; that if any of that happened, she’d somehow lost a third of her support system and couldn’t count on them for anything this time around: Not another search party, and definitely not a funeral. Her mind morbidly raced without her consent; thumbing through the flowers her loved ones were tattooed with, and the imagery her traitorous gray matter flashed through her mind’s eye wrenched her heart apart: Proteas and lilies in front of her brother’s headstone, a repugnant bouquet of Rocky Mountain columbines atop Kato’s casket. 

Her phone chimed. Kato had responded to her text with a ‘fucking fine. out smoking’ and a picture off the fire escape of his hand holding a lit cigarette, in front of a view of the night-time skyline’s constellation of city lights...framed so that at the picture’s bottom she could just barely glimpse fresh cuts on his wrist. She knew it wasn’t a cropping accident; she was meant to see. She burst into tears. 

“God, I’m sorry,” she sobbed to Teagan, covering her face with her hands, feeling suddenly small and like she needed to hide that smallness with hands simultaneously too big on her and not big enough.
“N-No, no need to be sorry!” Teagan stuttered. She awkwardly patted Athena’s back. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Or, well, you’re not, duh, so—why aren’t you okay, I guess? If that’s…okay for me to ask?”
Athena just shook her head at first; tongue-tied by not wanting to be that person, bawling her sob story at some unfortunate third party, but she was bottled up and being asked and God, she needed to talk to someone.
“I’m so scared,” she finally said, strangled, trying to choke back more tears and failing; “I’m so scared! It feels like I’m supposed to hold my life and my friends together right now but they’re falling apart and I’m—I’m not strong enough!” 
“Is this about your friend from last month?” Teagan asked. “Is he still…having a hard time?”

All Teagan knew was that Kato had gone missing and then been brought safely home, and how desperately Athena wanted that to actually be the reality of it drew some keening noise from her chest that her hoodie sleeves couldn’t stifle. She sniveled into them and blubbered only half-coherently through the fabric about being ‘the stable one’ but deprived of the people who used to stabilize her; about the fact that her friend, yes, the one from last month, had actually nearly killed himself twice in less than a week and now sent her pictures of his self-mutilation; that she couldn’t get through to him half the time and he wasn’t even all of it, because there was Seth, too:

“—and I’m fucking terrified that my older brother is gonna manage to kill himself one of these days, he tried when he was seventeen and promised he’d never try again but now he drinks and he slit his own fucking throat like a week ago and won’t give me straight answers!” Athena sobbed, almost wailing but far too hoarse, and at first she thought Teagan’s sharp intake of breath was going to result in an exasperated request for her to calm down or shut up please or both, because it was New York City and there were people everywhere and she was making a scene.
Fortunately, they were all New Yorkers, so they walked by and minded their own business, and what Teagan had to say was “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Do you want me to call you a cab so you can get home quicker? Do you need someone to go with you for backup?” 

Athena dried her sore eyes with the frayed sleeves of her hoodie and shook her head. “No, no, it’s fine. Kato’s fine, you know, just hurting himself. It’s not an emergency tonight—he’d tell me if Seth was…was having trouble. I'm sorry for dumping this all on you, Tea, thanks for putting up with me.” She forced a smile, while Teagan frowned at Athena’s definition of fine.
“I’m not putting up with nothing, aight? I care,” Teagan said, rubbing Athena’s shoulder. “And, um...this isn’t going exactly how I imagined, and it’s probably still not the time, but…” She fumbled her phone out of her jacket pocket and gave Athena a sheepish look. “You gave me your number when your friend went missing, and so I coulda just texted you, but I didn’t know if that’d be sus, ‘cause maybe it was only for emergencies and not for if I’m gay and wanna ask you out for coffee, so I thought instead of the classic asking-for-your-number I’d ask if you wanted it back…”
Athena managed a half-sniffled laugh. “I definitely don’t want it back,” she replied. The bus’s headlights washed over them as it squeezed out from behind the other snaking traffic and rolled screechily over. “Just…don’t expect me to be a very good date for a bit, I think,” Athena said, hiking her bag higher on her shoulder and starting up the bus’s metal stairs with a watery smile; “So maybe you won’t wanna text me after all.”
Teagan rolled her eyes and waved through the sepia-stained bus windows after the doors sighed shut and the wheels began to roll. Before she fell away completely into the distant city night, Athena saw her kind face illuminated by her phone screen, harsh lit like a road sign but still soft; still smiling.

Athena’s phone buzzed within a moment of her dropping out of view. “I wanna text u after all,” Tea wrote; “hmu whenevs. & if u dont feel like being a good date im down for a bad one too :) x”

It was less than a week later when, while paying rent online, Athena made note of the fact that there was someone looking for a roommate in the same building that Aetos had moved into. She ended up clicking over to their posting and apartment photos with an unanticipated and guilty sense of yearning. 
She had made up with Kato again, as always eventually happened after their fights: It’d been a quick turnaround this most recent time, though, maybe because of how haggard she’d looked coming home that night she met Storm. He’d apologized, as he always did, with the ‘sorry’s sandwiched between torrents of verbal self-abuse which she felt compelled to refute. 
Though he’d seemed calmer now that everyone had agreed to work on producing the EP he’d managed to churn out over his month of cocaine binges, he had been consistently unpredictable for long enough that these days she always felt like she was walking on eggshells no matter how stable he acted, and all in all daily existence with him had become an exhausting experience. Maybe it had been for a while, but the added stress of agonizing over both silence and sound from the ceiling overhead took its toll too, and so grew the appeal of a bedroom a parking lot away, with only unworrisome strangers around and overhead.

The poster—‘Storm’—said they were working two jobs and there would be plenty of ‘personal space,’ probably. They seemed straightforward, even if not particularly warm. They didn’t have any current pets but were open to them. They seemed on the level; their roommate-wanted post was clear: Assholes need not apply. No creeps, no bigots, no evangelists, no kids, no straight-edge purists; vegans on thin ice but fine. Dry; witty. Athena thought about going for it and re-checked the post; the rent. It was doable. Her current lease with ‘Key and Kato was up for renewal soon; they’d be getting the offer any day now. She could just skip out on signing. It’d be a thin couple months to pay out the end of the current lease and the new place on top of it, but…she could do it. 

She emailed Storm and asked about music tastes and the y/n on drum kits, but when they responded with hardcore, and no qualms with her kit, and the question of if she could sign on before the second week of December for rent’s sake, her guilt caught her up like a steel trap, painfully halting her in her tracks with the excruciating idea that moving out meant she was abandoning her brother; giving up on him the way he’d never given up on her. She fretted over her options, second-guessed herself half to death, and couldn’t stomach trying to raise the topic with any of her immediate social circle. Finally, desperate for an opinion as objective as possible, she dialed Teagan’s number. 

Athena knew it was weird; they’d only just barely gotten close enough to exchange names, numbers, and small talk…Well, and a fraction of trauma history on Athena’s end. But Teagan was looking for a relationship, or at least a date. Asking for moving advice seemed out of left field...but it all was intertwined anyway and Athena needed someone who didn’t know her-know her yet; who didn’t really know Seth or Kato, who wasn’t involved. Someone separate from all the shit going on and tearing her apart.

“...You’re not abandoning your brother,” Teagan said kindly through the phone after patiently listening to Athena sob out her guilty conscience and indecision over the course of an hour: “Listen to me, Athena, you love him, it’s obvious. But you’re falling apart right now and you can’t help him like that, either. Get yourself some space. I’ll even come help you move.”

Teagan’s assurance managed to break through—or at least crack a couple bars of the mental cage Athena’d built around herself. She and Storm met up all of once; squeezed in between Storm’s shifts and sleep.  Despite their overwork and Athena’s stress levels, the two of them got on fine—well, even. Athena at least couldn’t create a reason to keep stalling. The paperwork for the new flat was easily accepted, and though it made her uncomfortable to do, she ascertained that everything involved with Storm and the leasing office was secure before finally telling Anarchy and Kato that in a week’s time, she’d be moving out and heading over to the same building as Aetos.

Their blindsided expressions and bewilderment intensified her guilt, but she answered everything from “What, why?” to “Is it us?” to “What’s happening?” with a growing number of variations on “I just need a change,” which left Kato wounded and Anarchy concerned. He finally managed to talk to her alone one night and caught her hands in his, his eyes earnest beneath a brow furrowed by worry.
“Talk to me, ‘Thena,” he murmured gently. “I know something’s up; please tell me what it is. And what I can do.”
Her lip trembled for a heartbeat and she bit it, but he’d always kept up his offer to listen to her if she needed to talk, ever since making it all those years ago, and even if she could stifle her words she couldn’t stifle her trust in him—so she finally let herself crumple against his chest and break down in his arms, spilling out the truth of how wrenched apart she felt; how hard it was to live there but how guilty she felt over abandoning everyone. He went quiet for a few moments after she finished pouring her heart out, giving her the chance to regroup before he finally replied, soothing and genuine;
“Take care of yourself, ‘Thena. I’m here for K-O. And we’ll keep an eye on Sethfire...You’re not abandoning anyone.”
She choked up, immensely grateful for his broad chest and strong, solid arms, lending her the chance to finally let herself be the one in an embrace being offered protection. She leaned her forehead into the steady thump of his heartbeat and clutched his shirt in her hands.
“I’m not trying to leave you, either,” she said tearfully.
“I know. I’m the only one not causing problems,” he gently joked. “It’s okay, Athena. It’s across the parking lot, not the Hudson. It’s all fine. I’ll be right here.”

Despite all assurances, moving out proved an intensely emotional affair. Storm didn’t have a sofa, so Athena brought hers—but the couch Storm and Teagan helped her transport to the new apartment still had the names of now-absent friends painted on its cushions, and the guilt Athena felt over ‘bringing them along’ while leaving Seth behind was almost all-consuming. Storm’s welcome was fleeting and made curt by the fact that they had a morning photography gig out in Montauk and no car, so they should’ve been on the LIRR an hour ago, and they were already anticipating a shitty ride back in the morning so they could get some nominal sleep before heading into their third-shift retail job. They waved off Athena’s apology for them having been held up, and in light of their departure, Teagan stuck around overnight to help Athena settle—welcome company to ward off Athena’s fear over her first night ‘away.’ 

“Like a ship,” Teagan said that evening, gesturing to the apartment at large as she pulled a wine bottle out of her bag. “Only it’s a red, not champagne, and we won’t break it; stains. Might as well drink it instead, huh?”
They did, and Athena could have cried with the familiarity of it; she and Astra had done similar things—buzzed by both alcohol and adrenaline, crashing back at Astra’s apartment after a night spent clubbing, staying up to talk until their eyes refused to stay open.
Teagan wasn’t Astra, though: Not a mentor, not a boisterous older-sister-substitute. She was more sweet than exuberant, Athena’s age, driven and assured, yes, but without forsaking gentleness.

The moon passed its zenith and both the late hour and the wine drew the lulls in conversation longer. During one such silence Athena found herself just studying her date. Almost-girlfriend? Pre-girlfriend? Girlfriend? 
“I haven’t dated much,” Athena blurted out. “I’ve only had one real girlfriend.”
Teagan’s eyebrows pinched puzzledly together and a small smile graced her lips. “That’s crazy, you’re, like…gorgeous,” she said. “I figured the competition would be fiercer.”

Athena fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt. She felt abandoned by herself, the self she’d worked so hard to build after high-school, that Strong-One self who ate and held eye-contact and didn’t shyly fiddle their hands or linger on any sticky feelings like insecurity or doubt.
“That one relationship didn’t end well,” she said, knowing it would sound more like “I got hurt and now I’m hand-shy” than “I don’t know what the hell to do with a relationship,” or “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do here, Tea,” or “I don’t know how to get close to people like this, like that; I want to but I’m scared to want it, or need it, or something.” She’d dismissed it when Wendy tried to talk to her about it then—God, almost two years ago—but she could see it now: How she prioritized everyone else in her life, just like Wendy said. How she stretched herself too thin to allow herself to be in love, to pursue romance. How much of her life had been caught up in her role in other people’s lives; her brother’s especially, but Kato’s too. 
And she was close to them, yes, and to her other friends, and she didn’t lock herself up emotionally the way Sethfire did—but Wendy needed to be let in, and maybe part of it was pure incompatibility, but the other part of it was that Athena just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring someone else in, someone who was hers, because they’d want to see her like this, have to see her like this: Vulnerable, not The Strong One, and her best-case and worst-case scenarios were both that they’d want her to let them fucking help. She couldn’t do that; she needed to carry it, and she needed to be able to do it alone and not get used to needing. Because people could starve her out like her mom or could straight up leave—Astra had, and that hurt enough. How much worse would it be if they took her heart along with them? What if she got used to it, to needing, to needing too much, and then things changed? Who would she be able to need that wouldn’t be needing her more? Maybe Anarchy…he’d been so understanding. But it was so much, back there, at that apartment; so much could go wrong and she wasn’t there; needed to be there and needed to not be there; needed needed needed and was humiliated by her neediness.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Athena asked, suddenly realizing Teagan had spoken but the words hadn’t managed to break through her musing.
“Just that I’m sorry. That you’ve been hurt before. And…well, no pressure, but…you shouldn't let someone else keep you from living your life to the fullest, yanno? You deserve good things.” Teagan grinned, her shoulders up—she really was beautiful—and mouthed “I can be good things!” with a pick-me hand gesture followed by a kind, open laugh.

Athena looked at her. It had been so long since she’d felt truly close to someone; since she’d let herself feel truly close to someone. Close-close, not fun-close or listening-ear-close or self-sacrifice-close. Teagan was already here, already seeing her being Not The Strong One—being The Weak One, actually—and she wasn’t taking flight or throwing herself into the mutual misery well and trying to fix it, either. 
“You are Good Things,” Athena said. She cleared her throat. “I’m not always like this, you know, like… I’m fun, I promise. My life is just crazy right now.”
“So I’ve heard. I know you’re fun. Sorry for asking you out in the middle of a crisis. My bad, really.”
“It’s always a crisis,” Athena admitted, nearly exasperated but something meek and mousey beneath it. “This is just a big one.” She leaned against Teagan’s shoulder and sighed. 
“...I’ve been lonely, Tea,” Athena found herself confessing. She almost wanted to take it back as soon as she said it; yank herself away from the admission like a hand from a stove burner—but it was true, she was lonely, and though she felt like she had to hold it all together around everyone else, around Teagan she let herself be honest: 
“I have people in my life but I have to be something around them. I can’t talk to my brother or my friends about anything anymore. I’ve just felt…alone.” Athena frowned. She didn’t want to cry again.
“I’m here,” Teagan said gently. She turned and lifted a palm to cup Athena’s cheek. She was so close, so kind; her hand was warm and protective and Athena didn't know what made her say it but a whispered “...Kiss me?” left her mouth before she had a chance to think about it; breathed as a plea; as help me, as ‘find me.’ 

Teagan blinked, then leaned forward; their lips met in a gentle, stabilizing kiss which Athena couldn’t help but melt into. After pouring so much of her energy into her brother, her friends, her music, Athena found herself given out and hollow, and Teagan seemed nearly medicinal, now, exactly what she needed: Lips on hers; tender hands and someone else to warm her sheets and make her feel loved. Loved and seen and wanted instead of necessary.

It ended up being a far more intimate night than intended; Athena found herself falling for Teagan far faster than seemed reasonable for so short a timespan and the attachment made her nervous—but when Teagan had to leave for work in the morning, Athena couldn’t help but blurt out an invitation—or maybe it was more of a plea—for her to come back in the evening. And Teagan, beaming, agreed to.

She returned that night within a few minutes of Storm leaving, with Chinese take-out in hand instead of wine:
“Figured we’d need dinner. Hope you like fried rice,” she said, unpacking the paper containers and settling in with all the easy familiarity of a roommate; “Thought this was the way to go since they include chopsticks and all, and we still need to get you more kitchenware.”

It was incredibly thoughtful and Athena got butterflies at the “we” and god, she wanted to seem anything but ungrateful—but her stomach seemed to have shrunk to nothing with the stress of evening and all else. She picked disconsolately at her rice, fighting tears until she couldn’t anymore, and ended up breaking down.

“Do you think if I stopped eating again Seth would care enough to save himself?” she despaired, her voice going raw with how much she didn’t want to do that. “I don’t mean it,” she almost sobbed; “but what else can I even do? It got him to come back before.” She crumpled in the face of Teagan’s distressed expression and how few options she could see before her.
“Talk to me,” Teagan said, gently taking one of Athena’s hands. 
Athena wanted to bawl. 
Athena detested the impulse. 
Her lips trembled and scowled and failed to keep keening little hiccuping sounds behind them. She scrubbed the back of her arm across her eyes. It was too much—everything. Teagan knew she’d been anorexic in school, because that was part of the personal trainer marketing thing, Recovery™️, because Athena had to be the strong one at her job, too, of course—but it wasn’t just easy, just high school, the urges to relapse. It was her brother and how to pull him out; it was stress and trying to play too many roles that demanded too much; it was—and she hated admitting it, she didn’t want to admit it—Kato being so goddamn sick all the time, and Bryluen too: Athena’d been stuck with two people who always needed the spotlight in someway, up on stage with their bones and their illness, and Bry had asked “Doesn’t it bother you?” about Seth and Athena had been goddamn offended at the idea of ever being bothered.
But this bothered; it picked at her and burrowed into her skin like chiggers, that she was in the background and healthy and strong, always strong, too strong to stand out on stage with her brittle friends; too strong to need help or get help or have her brother hold her in his arms instead of a blade or a bottle; some voice in her head saying if she weighed as much as a fifth of whiskey then maybe she could fill whatever hollow places in him he was trying to fix, or at least she could be the empty one and maybe he’d find a way to refill himself so he could pour something into her.
“Is it okay if it’s everything?” Athena asked, finally, her tears blurring the sight of Teagan’s concerned expression. “Is it allowed to be everything?”
“Of course it’s allowed,” Teagan replied. “Tell me ‘everything.’”

Athena felt fifteen again, sniveling and sick of herself while someone coaxed her to eat, and her tearful nibbles weren’t made easier when she was punctuating every other bite with spilling her guts.
“I know it’s not rational! I know it’s not! But it’s like it lives up here in my head,” Athena said, tapping her chopsticks to her temple, “And it’s just hissing in my ears that if…if I got sick again, he’d get un-sick again.”
“...At least you don’t need me to tell you it’s irrational, baby,” Teagan murmured. “If loving you could keep him healthy, he wouldn’t be sick. You love him so much right now. You want to save him so much. Right? But it’s not keeping you healthy. Eating will keep you healthy, though. And getting some space to think will keep you healthy. And once you’re healthy, well…we’ll figure out how we can help him, maybe?” 

Teagan was patient and reassuring the whole evening through, guiding Athena away from seeing starvation and self-sacrifice as a viable route to take. They spent another night together, where Athena apologized for being so much to handle and Teagan answered with an untroubled;
“You bottled your shit up too long and you need to lose it a little bit right now; that’s just how it is. I definitely don’t mind making sure you don’t nosedive in the process.”

Athena tried to take it in and pull herself back towards stability; Teagan couldn’t live with her indefinitely, she needed to get her shit together. She limped back towards self-reliance as best she could despite continued breakdowns, struggling not to lean too heavily on anyone else or let on that her ED thoughts had made a reappearance: That would freak everybody out. She ached for company, though, especially with Storm being a rather apparitional presence—and her impulsive trip to the pet store landed her with not the kitten she’d been thinking about, but a fat and impassive fireleg tarantula. Athena named her Beatrice, or Queen Bea, but the sounds of her pincers clicking through cricket exoskeletons proved to be less substantial than human warmth. It wasn’t long after adopting her that Athena found herself on the phone with Teagan again, her tone casual and bright enough to cover up the fact that she’d just finished her third cry that week and her mascara had reached her chin.

“Hey, d’you wanna come over tomorrow night? You gotta see my new spider. I can grab some cheap wine, the three of us can have a girls night in. Four of us if I can convince Storm to call out.”
“Your new spider?”
“Her name is Beatrice and she’s big enough I gotta add her name to the lease. You down?”
“Yeah, ‘course. It’ll be good to see you, too.”

Something about Teagan’s presence crumbled Athena’s walls like nothing else could: The introduction to Beatrice was rudely interrupted by the arrival of Athena’s fourth breakdown that week over whether or not she was making the right choice—because she hadn’t seen her brother in a couple days, now, and she wasn’t there and what if the distance was going to drive him to the edge? What if he up and killed himself and it was all her fault for moving away? What if she was doing everything wrong and God, how could anyone forgive her if she was?

Teagan held her close and patiently redirected her tearful catastrophizing, speaking reason enough to bring Athena back to some fragile sense of stability.
“You’ve been bottling it all up again, babe,” Teagan said, stroking her cheek. “It gets worse when it’s stuck in there.”

The evening flowed more smoothly after that; there was palpable comfort to Teagan’s presence and Athena gave, gratefully, into it. They drank enough wine to warm their bodies and let emotions deepen their roots as the night wore on, eventually sitting on the couch in their sleepwear, still talking; neither of them paying any attention to the show they’d put on. It felt easy. Felt like life might stand half a chance at being easy. Or, at least, easier.

Gradually things did get easier for Athena under a different roof. And with Teagan helping, too, of course. Teagan was so…effortless. Where so many people in Athena’s life were like jumping through hoops, Tea was a walk in the park.
Literally, today—they were going to meet Anarchy and Anjali for a jog around Ridgewood Reservoir because the weather was nice enough. Overcast, sure, but she wasn’t going to bitch about a 50-degree day in December. And Anarchy actually wanted to talk to her, and get to know her girlfriend, and see how she was holding up and if she was getting along with Storm and stuff like that. He cared. Unlike some people…

The NY State birding trail sign at the trailhead up into Highland Park stilled Athena’s feet and brought a frown to her lips. Somehow she’d never noticed the sign before, and now it made her heart lurch as an echo of the twins.
“What’s up, b?” Teagan asked, lacing her fingers with Athena’s.
“Nothing, just…” Athena sighed. “Gabe and Ian were big into birding. I just saw that sign, and I…felt messy, I guess. I don’t know what happened; why they’re…gone. And I want to be able to do things with Sethy, too, like how Gabe and Ian would hang together. I wish I could talk to Gabe about it, and ask his advice, and get him to talk to Kato; he was always good at defusing him before…” Athena trailed off and scuffed her boot in the trailhead dirt.
“Well, why not just do things with Seth?” Teagan asked. “Would he want to bird-watch? He seems like the type. Quiet and private and all.”
“I don’t know…He might have done it a couple times with Audri, back before. See, though, that’s what I mean, like, I don’t even know what he likes other than books. I don’t know why he and Audri stopped seeing each other, or how he felt about it; feels about it. He’d duck a question faster than he’d duck a punch.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t make it easy for you, baby, I know,” Teagan replied. She rubbed her thumb over the back of Athena’s hand in a soft circle. “Maybe ask him about the bird-watching? Baby steps. Spend some time together without having to manage any shitshows…he’ll open up.”
“We’re both always managing some sort of shitshow, though.” Athena rubbed her temples with her free hand and tugged Teagan forward. “C’mon, let’s walk.”
“I know that expression by now. Kato still throwing a fit? Babe, I think Seth needs talking space but Kato needs a talking to. We’ve been over this.”
“I know, Tea, it just doesn’t feel that easy. But I know…”

Athena did know. She also knew better than to text Kato something stupid and ambiguous like “we need to talk,” because he’d flip out and spiral. It was difficult to find the right time for a rough conversation, though. He tended to pendulum swing between their interactions, and it would’ve felt fucked up to dress him down on a day he was his old self towards her and they’d just finished jamming together. The days where he was aloof or nasty didn’t seem particularly ripe for open and productive conversation, either, though. So, she stressed. 

Everything was still so fragile—Kato himself was still so fragile! She knew he felt abandoned by her moving out and she tried to make up for it by texting him more often, but he’d frequently ignore her and the radio silence sometimes drove her to calling Anarchy, crying, needing to make sure her oldest friend was okay. Anarchy would talk to him and it was like having Gabe again, in a way. But Teagan insisted she needed boundaries, not a buffer. Athena steeled herself and pulled Kato aside at the end of a studio session.
“K. Can I grab you for a sec?”
Kato’s gaze seemed chilly and he looked over her shoulder, to Anarchy, instead of at her directly. Anarchy glanced at Athena.
“...I’ll see you in a few, K-O,” he said, hefting his bass onto his shoulder. “Sick work with the drums today, ‘Thee.”

The air seemed to drop by degrees as soon as he left, and Athena frowned at Kato.
“You haven’t been responding to my messages,” she said.
“You’re always asking how I am and you know why you don’t know how I’m doing. You moved out,” Kato retorted. He folded his arms.
“I didn’t do that to hurt you, K. And it’s not fair how you’re treating me.”
“Not fair? You know what’s not fair? Having everyone you fucking care about pack up and walk the hell out of your life!”

“I went through that too!” Athena took a deep breath to keep from getting sucked into the desire to snap. “You’re not the only one. I haven’t heard a thing from Gabe since he texted about you yelling at Bry. I love you, and I’m trying so hard to be a good friend to you, and I love everything—” She gestured around the studio; “—that we’ve created together. But if you can’t treat me like a friend…I don’t know how we can stay actual friends.” She sniffled in spite of herself. “It really hurts that I’ve been siding with you this whole time, and losing people, and you’ve been icing me out and yelling at me and hurting yourself at me.”

“Don’t know—don’t know how—So it’s my fault?! How am I the motherfucking problem when you’re the one jumping ship in the middle of all this shit, making me feel WORTHLESS?!” Kato sputtered, then exploded, throwing out his arms. “You just fucking blast off like I’m not sui-fucking-cidal already but sure, I’m the issue! And now, what? Nightshrike is my fucking fault too? I’m so GODDAMNED sorry you chose the wrong ‘side,’ then, Athena!” He shook his head and clenched his fists, then gestured disgustedly towards her. “Why not just put a bullet in my fucking head, it would hurt less! I can’t FUCKING believe you—”

“I don’t want to stop being friends, and I’m not blaming you for Nightshrike being a bunch of ghosty shitlords, either,” Athena interrupted, fighting to keep her tone level. “I’m just asking you to treat me like I’m your friend. And if you can’t have this conversation with me without yelling at me, then I’m going to leave. And we can try again later.” In the pause after her sentence ended, Athena abruptly realized she was shaking. So, apparently, did Kato. He lowered his hands; shoved them in his pockets, then withdrew them and hugged himself.
“I didn’t realize I was yelling,” he muttered.
“Ok,” Athena said. Another pause.

“I know I’m a shit friend, I’m sorry,” he started; “I don’t know how you’ve put up with me for so long, or why. I get why you’d hate me, honestly, I don’t deserve you being friends with me…I just fucking suck for you, ‘Thena, and I don’t know why. But you know I’d rather kill myself than—”
“No,” Athena interrupted. She waved a tired hand. “That’s not an apology, K. I don’t wanna hear you dunk on yourself so hard that I gotta dive in and rescue you from the cinder blocks you tie around your own ankles, yanno?” She sighed; frowned; swiped a hand across her eyes.”You don’t need to, like, ream yourself out like that. Actually, I want you to quit reaming yourself out like that. I just want you to say sorry, and to listen to me, and to treat me like a friend so that I can be your friend because goddammit, Jules…I really need my friend right now.”

He struggled with it, obviously, but he seemed to hear her. His second apology was less self-victimizing and seemed more genuine without six layers of self-flagellation draped over it. His eyes were still darkened and downcast and so Athena restated that she loved him, but followed Teagan’s advice and laid it out that she wasn’t going to hang around while he raged at her anymore. Kato got it, or said he did. Athena could tell he was wounded by her boundary and she wished it didn’t hurt to hold him to, but she had to. And…he did seem to try harder, after, even if he still got stuck in being angry with her. He stopped yelling, and didn’t direct passive-aggressive allusions to suicide and self injury her direction anymore after she told him she wasn’t going to be held responsible for choices he makes like that; that he could come to her if he was struggling but there was a difference between that and when he struggled at her, or around her, trying to make her feel bad. 
They had an ugly fight, first, where he accused her of thinking he was a horrible manipulator like Bryluen did and asked what kind of punishment she thought would do him well; Athena made good on her assertion that she’d leave a conversation once it turned into a screaming match and told him by text that she knew his brain told him awful stories all the time for whatever reason, but he could at least control how he behaved, if not how he felt or thought. 
He worked at apologizing without either passing the buck or nuking himself from orbit and making her save him. He still got icy and snippy and insufferable sometimes—okay, maybe frequently—but it was better.

Athena still had no idea what to do about Seth. But if Teagan had been right one time…why not two?

One post-Christmas day found Athena standing beside Sethfire out on his balcony despite the cold in order to better see the sunset; spending time together, not managing a shitshow. Or…in theory. She kept glancing at him rather than the sky; the scarring on his throat was visible now—the bandages long since removed—and the scars kept drawing her eyes. They were so heart-wrenching it was hard for her to look at him for long without crying. He looked uncomfortable, standing rigid like he feared her passing judgement with her gaze. She could sense the distance between them and wanted, desperately, to bridge it. A sparrow flew by overhead, towards the reservoir, and sparked her memory.
“Hey...kinda random but...what do you think about bird-watching?” she asked quietly. Sethfire finally looked down at her, puzzled, and raised a tired eyebrow.
“I...don't think about bird-watching.” He tucked his tongue to his cheek and looked out towards the reservoir. “Audrianna and I indulged once. It was pleasant, though the birds seemed busy with other plans that day…We saw very few.”
“We could do it together…it might be fun,” Athena offered softly. She reached out for his hand and studied his knuckles instead of his expression.
“Sure, yes…I suppose we could count the pigeons.” There was a spark of dry warmth to his voice that made Athena look up—and there, struggling to surface from his dull eyes, was that old glint of humor he used to have; the faintest ghost of an amused smile on her brother’s lips. Athena wished she could reach out and grab it, hold it; keep that smile from slipping away again. 
“Perhaps we can find out where the ducks from the lagoon in Central Park go,” he continued softly. “I’m sure it’s frozen over by now.”
“I hated that book,” Athena murmured back, her own lips curling upward slightly at the reference. “You know I hated it, it was the assigned reading when I moved in with you. I bitched to you about it every evening.”
“I expect that is why I’ve found myself rather fond of it. It was wonderful to hear your voice so passionate again.”

God... Athena thought to herself as her smile grew watery, and now that’s what I’m dying to hear from you.